Never Let Me Go
by tudorrose33
Summary: Grace's emotional meltdown forces Roland to acknowledge his feelings.
1. Chapter 1

_I just felt like writing something else for you. It's a tiny thing, but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you would like me to take it to its logical conclusion, in which case, the rating will go up to an M for any subsequent chapter. All the usual caveats apply. _

He smoothed the paper against the tooled leather surface of his desk. The words swam in front of him. His brain would not process them, so he glanced up at the tense features of the woman, who had stood at his right hand for the past three years, seeking an explanation for the request which had just torn his world in two and removed every vestige of stability from it.

"Why, Grace?"

"I need to do this, Sir."

Her hands, normally so still, were nervously clasping and unclasping themselves as she stood before him, unable to look at him, knowing that she had dealt him a body blow, crushed his spirit and ripped her own from its moorings. The incessant rain drummed out its soul-destroying beat on the roof of the wooden office as she waited for his reply.

"Why now? Sit down for goodness sake. I'm not signing anything until you at least tell me why."

She did not move; more truthfully she could not. He got up and went to her side of the desk, pulling out a chair for her and gesturing for her compliance. Carefully, she sat, arranging her skirt and apron with precision. There was not a blonde hair out of place on her head. Her headdress was starched and pinned, seemingly immovable, like a nun's veil. She was immaculate, as ever. He walked away from her, the piece of paper still in his hand, his head bowed as he read it, disbelievingly.

"Well? I'm waiting for an answer, Grace."

His voice was a blend of so many feelings: shock, disbelief, impatience, confusion, anger, but above all hurt. Even now, in the midst of the second worst moment of his own personal war, he wondered why he felt overwhelmingly hurt.

"I don't have one, Sir. I just feel I need to move on."

"It makes no damned sense, Grace. You and I, we've achieved so much here. Why would you want to leave that unfinished, when there's still work to be done? The staff need you; the patients need you; damn it, I need you. I don't understand. Is it something I've done?"

Her eyes flew up at this. Grey green pools of unshed tears met his gaze unwaveringly and unashamedly. She swallowed hard, fighting to keep control as she felt the tears teeter on the brink, held back solely by the thick lashes of her lower lids. Furiously, she tried to blink them back, but it was too late. She looked down at her hands, still clasping and unclasping, this time not only themselves, but also the cotton of her apron, which was now concertina creased. Traitorous tears snaked a rolling path down her cheeks and fell onto her hands. He was beside her in a second, throwing the paper to one side on the desk.

"What have I said, what have I done to upset you so? Tell me, please." His tone was one of genuine concern.

Distractedly, she replied, "You haven't said or done anything. That's the problem."

He looked even more confused than before.

"So why do you want to transfer? I can't imagine it's anyone else, unless….It's that bloody Quayle woman isn't it? I'll sort her out once and for all. I'm not having this. What is it this time? You have to ignore her, Grace, to develop a thick skin with such as her." His hand was on her shoulder, gently squeezing it, in what he meant as a gesture of solidarity. For Grace, the contact merely served to reinforce a sense of loss.

"Oh, Roland, it isn't her, but you are right, I don't have a thick skin and perhaps if I did, I wouldn't feel as miserable I do." She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and he quickly offered her his handkerchief. She pressed it to her face, inhaling the fragrance of cedar wood, which caused a frisson of longing to course through her.

"Well, if it isn't her and I haven't said or done anything, why do you want to go? Why are you crying like this?"

Their exchange had enervated Grace and her response was consequently more emotional than she had intended. "If I have to spell it out to you, then there's no point. You said it yourself, I have to develop a thick skin and I can't!"

He was bemused and she continued,

"I can't stay if I'm nothing. You said you needed me, but how do you need me? Answer me that, please."

"Of course you're something, Grace; you're my matron and I need you beside me to run this hospital."

Her heart sank. "Is that all?"

"No. You're my friend, my best friend, and I need you beside me because you're important to me."

Exasperation was taking a hold of Grace. This was as painful as pulling teeth. Perhaps her worst fears were being realised and he really did not care in the way she wanted him to. She stood up and faced him.

"When I handed you my transfer request, how did you feel, Roland?"

"How did you expect me to feel? Devastated, hurt."

"And why was that exactly? Think about it, please, before you answer."

"I can't imagine this place without you, Grace. Nothing would be the same again. You're a tiny glimmer of hope for me in the midst of a crashing sea of despair."

"And that's, in many ways, how I feel every day about you, Roland."

"So, we agree on something. Then why are you going if you feel the same?"

As her emotions welled up, Grace gave vent to her feelings.

"But I don't feel exactly the same. You say that you need me, losing me would devastate you, yet you never say or do anything to give me that same glimmer of hope which I give you. You mean the world to me, and it's because you do that I can't stay. I've come to realise that friendship is wonderful, but you are so much more than that to me. It will be easier to start somewhere without you than to have to see you each day and know that all I can ever be is your friend and confidante. You said it; I need a thick skin to pretend I don't hurt, when I know what it is I want, but can never have it."

"Grace, I…." He got no further as she interrupted him.

"Please, Roland, do one thing out of love; sign off my transfer request. I don't want to be like this anymore, waiting and hoping for something which won't happen. You told me your marriage was dead and I thought, like a fool, that you might want me, but you've never said or done anything to alter the status quo between us, and so I realise that you don't feel the same way that I do. If you have any affection for me, no matter how slight, let me go, please."

He shook his head and took her hands in his.

"Do you truly think I have no feelings for you, sweetheart?"

She was so distraught that she did not realise the term of endearment which he had just used.

"Oh, you have feelings of friendship, but no more than that."

"How do you know what I feel, Grace? Have you ever asked me before today?"

"No, I haven't because you never gave me any hope that you might feel anything for me."

"I've tried to show you I care in little ways, but what can I give you? I'm married to a woman, whom I despise, and I'm in love with a woman I can't have. There, Grace, I've said it. Listen carefully to me: I'm in love with you, I adore you, I worship you; that's why I won't let you leave. How could you even think of going?"

"Why tell me now?" she asked simply.

"Because I feared that if I told you before, you'd run a million miles away. I hoped you had feelings for me, but it was gamble I wasn't prepared to take because I thought I might lose you altogether. You're a decent, honourable woman, who deserves a man who's free to give you the best things in life. What can I give you? Social and professional loss of status? So you see, ironically, in not saying anything for fear of losing you or causing you harm, it seems that I've lost you anyway? At least, if you still decide to leave me, you will have made an informed decision."

Grace looked intently at him, and then she walked to the door. He was behind her in a trice, holding her by the arms and pulling her back into him. His mouth was pressed against her ear, his breath hot, as he quietly implored her,

"No, Grace, my darling; please, stay with me, now, forever."

She reached out and bolted the door before turning in his arms. Her hand touched his face and the sense of wonderment was plain for him to see, as she followed its passage down from temple to jaw, looking into his eyes with such vulnerability that he felt humbled by her.

"I've loved you for so long, Roland."

He touched his forehead to hers, saying, "And I, you, Grace. Forgive this foolish man, whose only mistake has been to love you too much."

She was looking into his eyes as she replied, "I would forgive you anything except not loving me. That would be too great a sorrow for me to bear."

"Don't go, Grace; please don't go. I would surely die a little inside." His face moved closer to hers and his hands were travelling restlessly up and down her arms, across her back, as if undecided where they should caress her first, to bring her the comfort and reassurance, which she craved.

"I'll never leave you, Roland; I swear it." Her mouth was now so close to his that he could sense her lips without physically touching them. He pinned her to him with one hand and with the other he stroked her face, cupping her jaw and gently easing her head up so that for the first time he could kiss her as he had longed to do. Her lips grazed his and he moved immediately to deepen the contact, his tongue sliding smoothly into her mouth, which opened with no hesitation beneath his, as years of longing escaped in a moan of long anticipated satisfaction. His body's reaction was instantaneous as he felt himself swell and pulse against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with ardour.

He bent his head to hers and said, "I love you, Grace; I need you, and I want you, now. I'm yours, if you'll have me."

She kissed him passionately. "Is that a good enough answer?"

His response left her in no doubts of the level of his desire for her but, just as they were about to extinguish the lamp and head to the bedroom, he said,

"Grace, I don't think you'll need this now." He reached across the desk and taking the transfer form, he tore it into pieces and threw them into the wastepaper basket. He took her hand and raised it to his mouth.

"I have all I need right here and I think I may very well have something you need, so, will you please take me to bed?"

His kiss promised her everything and she willingly followed where he led as he pulled her through the bedroom door and into his arms once more.

_If you would like some more, please let me know. XX_


	2. Chapter 2

_**This is now definitely an M rating so if the loving relationship between two consenting adults is not for you, read no further. It seems, however, that reviewers did want more, so here it is and I hope you all enjoy it. XX**_

**CHAPTER 2**

He left her momentarily and lit the lamp on the chest of drawers, bathing the room in a soft warm glow, pushed the door shut behind them and, bending his head to kiss her again, manoeuvred her towards the bed. She was lost in his kiss, conscious of nothing except the movement of his mouth on hers, as he claimed what had always been his; her love. His arms surrounded her, pressing her ever closer to him, desperate not to lose what he had been so near losing. His feelings overwhelmed him as kiss followed kiss, rising in intensity, sweeping all thought to one side as he sought to reveal the depth of his feelings to the woman he had loved for so long. No words were necessary; they would come later of course, but at that moment, his actions were a more powerful advocate than anything he could say.

It had been so long since he had lain with a woman. He could not think in terms of the times with Hetty as making love. There had been no love, merely a mechanistic joining of two bodies. His heart had been isolated from anything they had done together, his mind had wandered, to any subject he could conjure, rather than acknowledge what was expected of him within the excuse for a marriage he had endured. Yet now, he understood what the term meant as he strove to convey his emotions to the woman in his arms, the woman he knew he would love till the end of his days. His mouth opened as his moans of pleasure implored her to delve as deeply as she could and, as she did so, his tongue met hers, creating an onslaught of emotions which left her reeling, yet wanting more. He hoped he would be equal to the task of making this first time memorable for all the right reasons.

For her part, Grace had waited patiently for this. The years of longing would of themselves have rendered her compliant to his will but, as they wanted the same thing in any case, her passionate responsiveness matched his own. Her mouth wanted to kiss, her arms to embrace, her hands to caress, and the emotional maelstrom generated within, spilled over into a need for intimacy, which left her body at fever pitch and desiring his touch above all things.

Eventually, with difficulty he pulled his mouth from hers and he held her face in his hands, stroking her flushed cheeks, smoothing her hair back and planting tiny butterfly kisses on her kiss-swollen lips. He gazed deep into her eyes, tacitly seeking permission, and then, turned her away from him to unpin her headdress. Slowly, he removed every pin and carefully took the stiffened linen from her head, revealing hair which shone gold in the honeyed lamplight. His fingers moved to loosen the burnished coil at the back of her neck, fanning it out across her shoulders, breathing in the scent of lavender and appraising his handiwork.

Her breath came faster and shallower, as her heart rate quickened in response to the wave of excitement, which washed over her. He ran his hands down her arms, coming to rest at her wrists, his fingers exploring the sensitive skin of their inner surfaces. Grace leant against him, the back of her head resting on his chest as her head bent to the side towards her shoulder, exposing her neck to his mouth. She gasped as she felt his mouth teasing the skin behind her ear, and again as his teeth nipped the earlobe he had drawn into his mouth, the gentle sucking on which made her legs tremble and caused him to grasp her waist and to turn her back into the circle of his arms. His eyes feasted on her, taking in the dark of her pupils, blooming huge in the pale grey green of their surrounding irises, the delicate blush suffusing her cheeks, her parted lips suggesting further passion before the night was through, and the pulse throbbing just below the skin at the base of her neck. He was so close that they shared the same breath and she could feel his heat. Tilting her head back, he lowered his head, his lips brushing hers, as he poured out his love for her.

"Oh my darling; you're so beautiful. Let me love you, Grace; be mine."

She kissed him tenderly, teasing his lips between hers, every breath she exhaled revealing her rising level of need for him.

"Tonight, and for all eternity, if you'll have me," she said, swaying sensuously against him, lightly kissing his neck and whispering, "I love you, Roland," as her hands moved to unknot his tie and push back his jacket from his shoulders, her body brushing against his, as she did so.

The impact of her body touching his was instant and electric. He felt the flesh at his groin pulse and stiffen, the heat travelling his length, and all he wanted was to bury himself deep within her. His hands shook with desire, as they went to the fastenings of her blouse and he eased the edges of the material apart. He revealed the swell of her breasts, rising and falling in line with her increasing level of excitement. His look bordered on the reverent, as he followed the movement of his fingers, slowly stroking the soft flesh, pushed up by the boning of her corset.

"Roland," she gasped, her breathing became erratic in response to his touch.

He stilled his hands. "Sweetheart?"

"Please, don't stop."

Smiling, his head lowered to feather kisses across her breasts and she pushed up against him wanting more. He worshipped her with his mouth, and she moved sinuously in response, reaching for him, her fingers undoing his shirt buttons and running her hands under his singlet to feel the warmth of his skin, beneath the light smattering of hair, as he pushed his hips against her and she felt the rigid swell of his aroused flesh through the coarse wool of his trousers. He pulled back suddenly and removed his shirt and singlet, taking her hands and placing them on his chest, which she stroked and teased with her fingertips and lips. His hands moved to her shoulders and he gently pushed her down, unresisting, onto the narrow bed, bending over to kiss her passionately whilst he freed her body from her corset, which he discarded on the floor. She lay back on the blanket, softly moaning, her arms above her head and her breasts heaving with the passion of her response, as his head nuzzled between the soft mounds, which his hands were fondling.

"Grace, oh, my love, my darling," he murmured as he moved from one breast to the other and she sighed in response, unable to take in the sudden shift in their relationship, but rejoicing in it nonetheless. She cradled his head, as his mouth captured each nipple in turn, sucking and swirling his tongue across them, teasing them to points of exquisite, almost unbearable, pleasure. His hands gently squeezed her breasts, while he worked her body steadily to fever pitch. Grace's hands slid down his chest, feeling his own nipples harden as she did so, following the line of dark hair southwards. Light as thistledown her fingertips travelled across his abdomen and then moved to his hips where they slipped under the waistband of his trousers and grasped his buttocks. His groan told her that he was as on fire as she was. His mouth seized hers once more and their tongues slid along each other, whilst Roland and Grace caressed flesh which silently begged to be touched. His hands moved to unfasten her skirt and afford him access to her undergarments. His intake of breath as his hands traversed the soft cotton of her undergarments betrayed his excitement. Yet, even now, as his passion threatened to overspill, he could not believe that she was his.

Stroking her face, he asked, "Grace, darling, are you sure or, in my ardour, have I pushed you too fast?"

"Oh my darling, I love you so much," she answered as she pressed her mouth to his. "Make me yours."

As their lips pulled apart, his eyes locked with hers, as his hands slid down and removed her undergarments, easing them off inch by inch, and taking her stockings and boots with them. Grace could feel her body throbbing and the tell-tale signs of arousal from the dampness between her legs. She ached for his touch and, not to be outdone, unbuttoned his fly and pushed his trousers and pants away from his hips. Roland stood up and removed them, kicking off his shoes and socks, as he did so. She watched him, and felt a rush of heat hit her, as he turned and she saw the extent of his arousal. He returned to the bed and bent over her prone form, cupping her breasts and kissing them until she begged him to stop for fear she would cry out and draw attention to their activity. The heat and pressure in his groin was almost overwhelming, but he was determined that this first time together would be something they would treasure in their memories. He worked his way down her body and Grace could feel her body writhe with pleasure, wanton in its attitude, raising her hips and seeking his touch. He did not disappoint but moving her legs apart, he started by gently stroking her stomach, tracing swirling patterns across her hips, skirting the slight rise of her sex, sufficient to cause a responsive pulsing deep within her core. Grace reached for him, raising herself up to kiss him, her mouth moving with deliberate sensuality over his, opening to him and drawing him ever deeper in.

"Please, darling, touch me. I want you so," she begged him, pressing her breasts against him, canting her hips up, and inviting him to explore her.

"Let me love you with my mouth, Grace. I want my senses to know every part of you."

"You truly love me that much?"

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea how much I love you."

Reaching for him, she slid her hand down and encircled the hot, hard pillar of flesh that was pressing against her thigh. Gently her hand moved along it until he stopped her with a groan of frustration.

"Grace, I want you, but I can't last if you do that. It's been so long and I fear I'll disappoint you."

"Roland, my love, you could never disappoint me. I freely give you everything I am. Love me however you want."

She watched, as his head moved down to rest between her legs, and then she felt his mouth on her, kissing her intimately, his tongue slipping effortlessly between her folds and delving its way deep into the heart of her being, sweeping along her sensitised flesh, lapping at the wetness within. Her body spiralled into a vortex of exquisite pleasure, unlike anything she had ever experienced, or dreamt of. Her hand flew to her face, stifling the cry which rose to her lips, as he held her apart and slowly circled the bundle of nerve endings, which rose beneath his tongue. Her hips bucked uncontrollably and she could feel the slight abrasiveness of his chin rasping over her, as his tongue wrought havoc with her body, seeking, teasing and stoking an intense erotic response, which threatened, and then precipitated a series of inner pulses, which she could not control and which were building to a crescendo, when he stopped and left her bereft and desperate for him. Her eyes found his, luminous with arousal, begging him to finish what they had both started.

"Now. Please, don't make me wait, I want you so."

Her words swept away any vestiges of doubt, which clung to him, his body leaping in response, as he said,

"I love you, Grace Carter. You're mine."

With that his hand slipped between her folds, reaching into the warm centre at their heart, and his fingers slid beyond the threshold. Their persistent stimulation, as they curled within her, was almost too much to bear. She was so ready for him and raising her body up, she seized his lips and then said,

"I'm yours."

He moved between her legs, eyes meeting hers, savouring every second, as he finally entered the woman he adored. The heat surrounding him, and the insistent pull of her body as it drew him in, were beyond his wildest imaginings. It was almost too much, but he drew on his self-restraint and desire to love her to a climax, before he would allow himself that reward. She raised her legs and wrapped them about his waist, pulling him in still further, moving to deepen the connection. He knew he would not last long, but she was so aroused that it needed only a few thrusts for her to cling to him, gasping and hiding her face against his chest to stifle her cries of completion, as spasm after spasm sent her reeling into a world she had never known before. The feel of her body pulsating around him, her head thrown back in wild abandonment, spurred him on, as he thrust still deeper, owning her body, until he, too, lost control and he spilt his essence within her, smothering his hoarse cry of her name against her shoulder, as her arms encircled him, pulling him down onto her breast.

She willingly bore his weight on her slender form, still feeling her body throb gently beneath the force of his flesh within her. She whispered to him, words meant for him alone, knowing that this was the moment, which had just defined the rest of their lives. They were damp with the force of their exertions, but she loved it, the taste of his flesh on her tongue, the slick newness of his arms about her, and yet he was so familiar that she had felt no shyness in offering him her body and in giving him pleasure. As his body calmed and his strength returned, his thoughts immediately focused on Grace. He bore his weight on his elbows, staring down into eyes which reflected the passion he felt. Reaching up, Grace stroked his face and looked in wonderment at him.

"Roland, I'm so in love with you."

He bent his head and kissed her with every ounce of feeling he could muster, hoping that she would understand the extent of his love for her. He had never felt anything so intense as their first time together and he knew in his heart that, as they spent more time loving each other, that intensity would grow. It seemed impossible, but it was true. Grace seemed to read his thoughts.

"I never thought it was possible to love anyone like I love you, and yet it is, and that love continues to grow."

"Oh, my Grace, my sweet one, I am lost in you and I never want to be found."

Gently, he rolled to one side on the narrow bed and faced her. What he saw made up for all the years of pain within his so-called marriage. Beneath the tumble of golden hair, her lips, plump and rosy from his kisses, were curved into a tender smile; her eyes were dark and heavy-lidded with the force of their mutual passion; her skin bore the signs of his love-making, making him tingle at the memory of making those marks; her breasts sought his hands to cup them and her legs draped over his, soft and welcoming. He had never lain with a woman, who loved him, much less one whom he loved in return and, now that he had, his life was hers, and hers, his. She moaned as his hand moved between them and he lightly touched her.

"Roland, mm…" Her arms wound round his neck and she pressed against his fingers.

"Grace, you are the love of my life. Why did we wait so long?"

"I don't know; shyness, fear of loss, whatever the reason, I feel the same and I'm so grateful that I now know what it is to be loved by you."

"I thought I would disappoint you."

"How could you ever do that? I love you, you silly man, and you'll have to get used to that because I'll never stop."

"Oh, sweetheart; how I've longed to hear you say that." He swept back a damp curl from her forehead, while his mouth descended upon hers once more. He deepened the kiss until she seized the initiative from him and kissed him back, her lips eventually trailing down to his collarbone and her hand dropping to hold him again.

"Can we sleep like this, do you think?" she asked.

"I don't know, but it'll be fun trying, and if we fail miserably, I think staying awake would be rather enjoyable, don't you?"

She smiled at him and answered, "I don't mind what we do just promise me one thing?"

"Name it, darling."

"Never let me go."

He enveloped her in his arms and nuzzled her hair, breathing in the scent he would now always associate with making love to her. As she sighed contentedly, he said, "I'm bound to you forever, and so, I swear, I'll never let you go, Grace Carter."

_**Every reader is a blessing and I so hope you liked this. If you feel you'd like to, please review because your thoughts mean a great deal to me. XX**_


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